


Unicorns and Carriages

by skysonfire



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), Castlevania Netflix
Genre: Belnades - Freeform, Castlevania - Freeform, Dracula - Freeform, F/M, Konami, One Shot, Smut with a Story, Sypha, Trevor - Freeform, belmont - Freeform, netflix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 03:53:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16611413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysonfire/pseuds/skysonfire
Summary: The Belnades/Belmont carriage makes another stop on its way to Brăila. Sypha's anxieties heighten as the enormity of their task looms. On the dawn of a new day, she identifies a distraction to soothe her mind, and Trevor certainly doesn't protest.





	Unicorns and Carriages

Beaded, dewy mornings splashed with candy skies, northern breezes, and autumn mountains — those are her favorite, even waking from the wooden base of their carriage. There would be snow soon and harsh terrain to travel, but his home was no longer his own, and she was a wanderer.  
  
Sun streams dusty undulations through the canvas of the carriage top and the rays paint his back, warming his old scars with their heat. She touches the hair at the back of his neck and smoothes the embroidered crest of his crumpled tunic. He is a unicorn, a myth from musty stories crafted and shared through time by wet nurses and poets; by Speakers and monsters. The final child in line, reared by hunters and assassins, so blue eyed, expectant, rushed, and sad. To grow alone in the wild tumult of the world with nothing but a family sigil, a whip, and a hollow heart; deep and endless, bobbing in the expansive dark of singularity.  
  
When he rolls awake to see her, something comes alive in him that forces a type of guilt to bubble wildly within her guts. The level of his look makes her wonder about all the bits that make her who she is. The pressure of his caring intention is vast, and when he sits up to kiss her – hand upon her face with his fingers entangled in her disheveled hair – she feels her anxieties heighten. His affection is expansive — it's a cacophony of so many emotions, like diamonds swirling amid a sandstorm. Her hands touch at the rugged parts of his face and her heart vibrates wildly through its cage as she considers his disastrous and enchanting ways.  
  
 _"I am so afraid,"_  a voice inside of her whispers.  
  
Breezes stir the carriage and her stomach beckons for a meal. They are stalling on the road to Brăila because in the darkness of sleep, mortality stings intently with the truth of their venture. They are riding out of the sunny, colored world directly into the hands of death. How cruel would loss be, especially after this?  
  
"This evil," she starts, but she can’t seem to collect her thoughts.  
  
"It's our life's work, Sypha," he pauses. "Didn't you basically say so yourself?" He studies her and hangs on her expression. He knows her mind; her uncertainty and stress, but also her unrelenting drive to live in the light, and her easy joy, conjured by the simplicities in the world.  
  
"Yes," she replies. "But sometimes I look at the little houses along the road with their burning chimneys. I wonder about what it would be like to fade into ... out there." She rests her hand on his thigh.  
  
"It's not your way, having people protect you," he smiles at the truth of her strength and warrior essence.  
  
"I know. It's just an idea when I'm tired," she replies, and just as her face threatens to turn to sadness, she proclaims, "I'm hungry, Belmont." She pushes on his chest playfully and then hitches her hips onto his lap.  
  
"Is that so?" He asks, intrigued by her two-way course.

She places her hands on his shoulders and touches her mouth to his lips, encouraging him open to taste her. He pulls her closer to his chest and she begins to mill against his groin, which immediately causes him to heat and swell.  
  
"I see," he whispers between the frantic motions of her mouth.  
  
Dexterously, he pulls open his unlaced breeches and pushes her tunic aside so that she can take him. She is drenched and ready and she sheaths him quickly, beckoning him to do his work. He rocks her, and an involuntary moan escapes his throat when she tilts her head back and braces her arm against the carriage floor.  
  
His audible desire spurs her on and she bucks him harder, pushing against his chest to get the leverage she needs to sink him even more deeply into her center. Beads of sweat dapple his brow as she grinds down on him with vehemence. Her entire body writhes — she almost hurts, her blonde hair shining and bobbing like golden grain in the sun.  
  
"Oh, fuck you, Sypha." He growls at the intensity with which he needs to stall his finish.  
  
She shoves his torso toward the floor and he marvels at the enormity of her presence from above. He tucks his fingers between them, adding pressure to her begging sex, and she cries out with desire. Between rotations, he brings his slick fingers to his mouth for a taste.  
  
The repetitive catch of his calloused fingers and the thickness of his heat force her to submit to a quaking finish, which lathers him in everything he needs to break, retract, and spill himself onto her belly. The two breathe wildly, and he meets her mouth once more with his own, touching her with the pressure of innocent affection.  
  
She collapses into his arms and he holds her tightly. A number of moments pass, and she clings fast to him — her unicorn, her imperfectly pure, courageous, and loyal myth.

"You said something about forever not too long ago. Do you remember?" He muses quietly, closing his eyes against the light.  
  
"Yes," she replies. "Forever."

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a smutty one shot? Yes, but I tried to communicate a lot more elements in this piece than just sex. The idea that death may be knocking around every turn is a seemingly anxiety-producing prospect. Naturally, this is not something communicated in the anime series (yet), but I wanted to bring a larger humanity to this so that the undertones are deeper and more relatable. Sypha worries in this piece that she may lose Trevor, and these feelings are only intensified by the enormity of who he is, how he responds to her, and how he affects her. I don't think that Sypha understands completely how to process these feelings, which is what leads to the pair's frantic and impassioned exchange. Thanks for reading!


End file.
